The first light of dawn barely pierced through the heavy drapes of Dimitri's room, casting the faintest glow over the bed. Lucas stirred, his senses gradually coming alive as the world around him sharpened into focus. He blinked once, then twice, his eyes adjusting to the bright light. Beside him, Dimitri was still deep in sleep, his breathing steady, the soft rise and fall of his chest almost soothing in its rhythm.
Lucas lay still for a moment longer, letting the silence wrap around him like a comforting shroud. The night had been strange, a blur of half-forgotten dreams and lingering tension, but now, in the stillness of morning, he felt an eerie calm settle over him. He turned his head slightly, his eyes falling on Dimitri's peaceful face. A fleeting thought crossed Lucas's mind but he quickly pushed it aside.
Careful not to disturb Dimitri, Lucas slid out of bed.The floor was cold against his bare feet, a welcome sensation that helped to clear the last remnants of sleep from his mind. He stood by the window, pushing the curtains aside just enough to peer outside. The morning was quiet, the world still wrapped in the soft hues of dawn. His gaze drifted to the house next door, where his own bedroom window was in full view.
A small, knowing smile played at the corners of Lucas's lips as he stared at the familiar sight. There was something oddly comforting about seeing his own space from this perspective.
He turned back to the bed, where Dimitri still lay, undisturbed by his movements. Lucas's smile widened slightly, a touch of something darker behind his eyes as he watched Dimitri sleep. The tranquility of the moment was almost too perfect. But Lucas knew this peace wouldn't last—it never did.
Without another glance, Lucas moved to the door, careful to make as little noise as possible. The soft click of the latch was the only sound as he gently closed the door behind him, leaving the room in dim silence.
The moment the door clicked shut, Dimitri's eyes snapped open. He had been awake the entire time, his heart pounding quietly in his chest as he lay still, pretending to be asleep. The faint sound of Lucas's footsteps faded down the hallway, leaving Dimitri alone .
___
Lucas descended the stairs, his footsteps light as he made his way toward the kitchen. As he approached the kitchen, the familiar scent of morning tea lingered in the air, a comforting aroma that felt almost out of place in the stillness of the house.
When he entered the kitchen, he found Mrs. Bennet standing by the counter, her back turned to him as she busied herself with preparing breakfast. She hadn't noticed his presence yet, her movements precise and practiced as she set out plates and cups, the clatter of dishes the only sound breaking the silence.
Lucas paused in the doorway, watching her with a curious expression. There was something about the way she moved, a certain stiffness in her posture that hadn't been there before. He could sense the tension in the air, subtle but unmistakable, and it brought a small, almost imperceptible smile to his lips.
"Good morning, Mrs. Bennet," he said softly, his voice carrying a gentle, almost sing-song quality that was at odds with the thoughts swirling in his mind.
Mrs. Bennet jumped slightly at the sound of his voice, her hand trembling as she turned to face him. Her expression was carefully controlled, a polite smile plastered on her face, but Lucas could see the nervousness in her eyes, the way they flickered with uncertainty as they met his gaze.
"Good morning, Lucas," she replied, her voice steady but lacking warmth. "I didn't hear you come in."
Lucas tilted his head slightly, studying her with that same unsettling curiosity. He took a step closer, his eyes narrowing as he observed the small details—the way her hands gripped the edge of the counter, the tightness in her jaw. It was clear to him that she was trying to maintain her composure, but the cracks were starting to show.
Lucas didn't respond immediately. Instead, he casually perched himself on the edge of the kitchen island, just a few feet away from her. He leaned back slightly, his eyes narrowing as he studied her, the silence stretching between them.
After a moment, he tilted his head and asked, almost conversationally, "You're not her, arent you?"
The question hung in the air, sharp and pointed, cutting through the forced politeness that had filled the room. Mrs. Bennet's smile faltered, and her eyes widened in surprise, a flicker of fear crossing her features before she quickly looked away.
"I-I don't know what you're talking about, Lucas," she stammered, her voice barely holding steady.
Lucas let out a soft, almost amused chuckle, but his gaze remained cold and unyielding. "No," he said quietly, his tone deceptively gentle. "You do. So, where is she.The real Mrs.Bennet?"
Mrs. Bennet's hands gripped the edge of the counter tighter, her knuckles turning white as she struggled to maintain her composure. The mask she had tried so hard to wear was slipping, and Lucas could see the cracks beginning to form
Lucas's eyes gleamed with a twisted kind of innocence, a dangerous blend of curiosity and malice that made his words all the more unsettling. He tilted his head slightly, the small smile on his lips resembling that of a child, as if he were asking a simple question rather than something far more sinister.
"You know," he continued, his voice soft and almost playful, "most people wouldn't even notice. They'd go on with their day, thinking everything was just the same. But not me." He leaned forward slightly, his gaze locking onto Mrs. Bennet's with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine. "I'd notice, Mrs. Bennet ,should I even call you that. I'd notice if something was… off."
The room seemed to close in around them, the tension thickening with every passing second. Mrs. Bennet tried to steady her breathing, her mind racing for something to say, anything to steer the conversation away from the unsettling direction it was heading.
"I don't know what you mean, Lucas," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, a weak attempt at deflecting his attention.
But Lucas wasn't so easily deterred. He gave her a slow, almost pitying shake of his head. "Oh, come on now," he murmured, his tone still light but with an edge of something far darker underneath. "You don't have to pretend with me. I know how to keep a secret."
Lucas's eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he watched Mrs. Bennet's forced composure unravel. The fear in her eyes was intoxicating, feeding the growing darkness within him. For a moment, he just sat there, savoring the power he held over her, the way she was trying so desperately to maintain control when he could see her crumbling from within.
But then, just as quickly as it had come, his interest in the game began to wane. The thrill was fleeting, as it always was, and the reality of the situation settled back in. He pushed himself off the kitchen island, the cold amusement fading from his expression.
With a soft laugh that echoed eerily in the quiet kitchen, Lucas turned on his heel and left without another word, the echo of his footsteps following him through the house. He let himself out the front door, leaving Mrs. Bennet behind to collect whatever was left of her shattered composure.
The early morning air was crisp against Lucas's skin as he walked the short distance back to his house next door. The events of the night and morning felt like a distant memory, already fading into the recesses of his mind. As he approached his driveway, he spotted Mr. Bennet heading to his car, ready to leave for work.
Without missing a beat, Lucas flashed a big, cheerful smile, raising his hand in a friendly wave. "Good morning, Mr. Bennet!" he called out, his voice light and casual.
Mr. Bennet glanced over, slightly taken aback by the unexpected greeting but quickly returning the wave with a polite nod. "Morning, Lucas," he replied before getting into his car.
Lucas watched him for a moment, the smile still lingering on his face as he stepped inside his house, closing the door softly behind him.
The house was eerily silent, devoid of any life. The aftermath of Mrs. Morton's death lingered in the atmosphere, the faint scent of cleaning products mingling with the staleness of the empty rooms. The body had been removed, and any trace of the night's horror had been meticulously erased. But Lucas could still feel it—the echo of what had happened here, the quiet that followed the storm.
Alone in the house, Lucas felt a strange calm settle over him. The solitude was welcome, a chance to be alone with his thoughts, to let the darkness within him simmer quietly until it was ready to rise again.
He made his way to his bedroom, the familiar surroundings bringing a sense of comfort as he stepped inside. The bed was just as he had left it. Lucas stood by the window, gazing out at the house he had just left, a faint smirk playing on his lips.
He turned away from the window, closing the curtains to shut out the growing light. The darkness was more comforting, more familiar. Lucas slipped into his bed, pulling the covers up over him as he let his mind drift once more. The house was silent, but in the quiet, Lucas could still hear the echoes of fear, of power, of control—and he reveled in it.Lucas walked to his closet. The door creaked slightly as he opened it, revealing a now neatly arranged space. He reached for the jar on the top shelf, his fingers curling around the cold glass as he pulled it down.
Inside, the deer remains and the delicate snake skeleton lay preserved, each piece carefully cleaned and arranged. For a moment, Lucas stared at them, his eyes tracing the familiar shapes, the intricate details that had once fascinated him. But now, as he held the jar in his hands, that old thrill felt hollow, meaningless.
The excitement of collecting these things had faded, replaced by a growing hunger for something more—something bigger, something human. The realization stirred the darkness within him.
Without hesitation, he turned and walked to the kitchen. The jar felt heavier in his hands as he moved, the weight of his past collection now a burden he was eager to discard. Reaching the trash, he paused only briefly before letting the jar slip from his fingers, the glass shattering with a dull crash as it hit the bottom.
The sound echoed in the empty house, a finality that brought a twisted smile to Lucas's lips. He was done with the small things, the trivial trophies that no longer satisfied him. Now, his desires were fixed on something far more significant, something that would truly feed the darkness within him.
As he stood there, Lucas felt a new thrill rise within him. The hunt had just begun, and this time, it would be for something far more precious.
He headed back upstairs, his footsteps light, the anticipation building again as he approached his closet. Opening the door once more, Lucas reached for the stack of books tucked away in the back. The spines were worn, the covers faded, but the contents within were pristine, well-kept despite their age. These weren't ordinary books—they were medical texts, the kind doctors used, filled with detailed diagrams and gory images that fascinated him in a way that was both clinical and disturbingly detached.
Lucas carried the books to his bed, setting them down with care. He flipped open the first one, the pages crackling slightly as he turned them. His eyes were immediately drawn to the vivid, anatomical illustrations, each organ, muscle, and bone meticulously labeled. He studied them intently, his gaze cold and calculating as he absorbed every detail.
"How to preserve the body..." he murmured to himself, tracing a finger over the diagram of a human torso, dissected to reveal the layers beneath. The instructions were precise, almost methodical, and Lucas found a perverse satisfaction in the knowledge they offered.
He turned to another page, this one focused on the best techniques for making incisions. "How to cut without causing major bleeding..." he mused aloud, reading the notes on avoiding major arteries, minimizing blood loss while still achieving a clean cut. The idea intrigued him, the thought of precision in something so brutal.
As he continued to flip through the book, another topic caught his eye—how to handle and manipulate a corpse post-mortem, ensuring it remains intact for study.Lucas added quietly, his lips curling into a faint smile.
The books offered a wealth of knowledge, and Lucas devoured it, his mind racing with possibilities. He was no longer just an observer of these grim scenes; he was preparing, learning the steps he would need to take when the time came to put this knowledge to use.
Hours passed as he sat there, engrossed in the texts, the morning giving way to midday without him noticing. The house remained silent, his world reduced to the pages in front of him and the dark thoughts that accompanied them.
In this quiet moment, there was something almost endearing about him, a youthful innocence. His dark hair fell slightly into his eyes as he leaned over the book, a look of focused curiosity playing on his face, as if he were simply a student preparing for his next exam.
He had an air of concentration that made him appear harmless, even adorable, with his brow furrowed slightly in thought and his lips pressed into a soft line. Anyone observing him might have assumed he was engrossed in a harmless study session, perhaps learning about trivial highschool stuff.
But the page he was turned to told a far different story.
Spread before him in vivid detail was a full-color illustration of an open, bloody heart, its chambers meticulously labeled, the surrounding tissue torn and exposed. The gore was stark against the clinical white of the page, a raw and unflinching depiction of the human body at its most vulnerable.
Yet, despite the gruesome nature of the image, Lucas's expression remained serene, almost gentle. He studied the page with the same innocent curiosity one might have when reading a textbook on flowers or butterflies. His gaze lingered on the heart, noting the precise placement of each incision, the careful way it had been dissected to reveal its inner workings.
It was as if he were in a world of his own, a place where the line between innocence and brutality no longer existed.
For Lucas, this was just another lesson, another step in his journey toward mastering the knowledge he craved. To anyone else, it might have been horrifying, but to him, it was simply fascinating—a puzzle to be solved, a skill to be perfected. And as he sat there, lost in the pages of his book, he looked every bit the part of an eager student.